%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> A Lamentable Ballad of a Combate lately Fought, near London, between / Sir James Steward, and Sir George Wharton, Knights; who were both slain / at that time. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer 1695-1695 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 09/19/2018 35896

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R228308 1 Down Plumpton-park, &c. [unknown] Down Plumpton Park, etc. IT grieves my heart to tell the woe / that did near London late befal, YOung Wharton was the first that came / to the appointed place next day, Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. : A Lamentable Ballad of a Combate lately Fought, near London, between / Sir James Steward, and Sir George Wharton, Knights; who were both slain / at that time. A Lamentable Ballad of a Combate lately Fought, near London, between Sir James Steward, and Sir George Wharton, Knights; who were both slain at that time. A Lamentable Ballad of a Combat lately Fought, near London, between Sir James Steward, and Sir George Wharton, Knights; who were both slain at that time. 1695-1695 A.M. W.O. and T. Thackeray

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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">A Lamentable Ballad of a Combate lately Fought, near</hi></hi> <hi rend="italic">London, <hi rend="bold">between</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Sir</hi> James Steward, <hi rend="bold">and Sir</hi> George Wharton, <hi rend="bold">Knights; who were both slain</hi></hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">at that time.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of,</hi> Down <hi rend="bold">Plumpton-</hi>park, <hi rend="bold">etc.</hi></hi></seg>
IT grieves my heart to tell the woe that did near London late befal, On Martlemas-eve, O woe is me, I grieve the chance and ever shall, Of two right gallant Gentlemen, who very rashly fell at words, But to their quarrel could not fall, till they fell both by their keen swords: The one Sir George Wharton call'd, the good Lord Whartons son and heir, The other Sir James, a Scottish Knight, a man that a valiant heart did bear: Near to the court these Gallants stout, fell out as they in gaming were: And in their fury grew so hot, they hardly could from blows forbear. Nay, kind intreaties could not stay Sir James from striking in that place, For in the height and heat of bloud, he struck young Wharton o'er the face; What dost thou mean, said Wharton then, to strike in such unmanly sort? That I will take it at thy hands, the tongue of man shall ne'er report. Why, do thy worst, then said Sir James, and mark me, Wharton, what I say, There's ne'r a Lord in England breathes, shall make me give an inch of way.
This brag's too brave, stout Wharton said, let our brave English Lords alone, And talk with me that am your foe, for you shall find enough of one. Alas, Sir, said the Scottish Knight, thy blond and mind's too base for me, Thy oppositions are too bold, and will thy dire destruction be. Nay, said young Wharton, you mistake, my courage and valour equals thine, To mak't apparent cast thy glove, to 'gage to try, as I do mine. Ay, said Sir James, hast thou such spirit, I did not think within thy breast That such a haughty daring heart, as thou mak'st shew of e'er could rest: I enterchange my glove with thee, take it and print thy bed of death, The field, I mean, where we must fight, and one for both loose life and breath. We'll meet near Waltham, said Sir George, to morrow that shall be the day, We'll either take a single man, and try who bears the bell away. This done, together hands they shook, and without any envious sign, They went to Ludgate where they staid and drank each man his pint of wine.
No kind of anger could be seen, no words of malice might bewray, But all was fair as calm as cool as love within their bosomes lay, Till parting time, and then indeed they shew'd some vancor of their heart, George, said Sir James, when next we meet, so sound I know we shall not part. And so they parted both resolv'd to have their valour fully try'd; The second Part shall briefly show, both how they met, and how they dy'd.
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Second PART.</hi></seg>
YOung Wharton was the first that came to the appointed place next day, Who presently spy'd Sir James coming as fast as he could post away; And being met in manly sort, the Scotch Knight did to Wharton say, I do not like thy doublet George, it sits so well on thee to day: Hast thou no privy armour on, nor yet no privy coat of steel? I ne'er saw Lord in all my life become a doublet half so well. Now nay, now nay, stout Wharton said, Sir James Steward that may not be, I'll not an armed man come hither, and thou a naked man truly. Our men shall strip our doublets, George, so shall we know whether of us lye, And then we'll to our weapons sharp, ourselves true Gallants for to try. Then they stript off their doublets fair, standing up in their shirts of lawn, Follow my counsel, the Scotch-man said, and Wharton to thee I'll make known: Now follow my counsel, I'll follow thine, and we'll fight in our shirts, said he. Now nay, now nay, young Wharton said, Sir James Steward that may not be,
Unless we were drunkards and quarrellers, that had no care of our sell, Not caring what we go about, or whether our souls go to heaven or hell. We'll first to God bequeath our souls, then next our corpse to dust and clay: With that stout Wharton was the first took rapier and poniard there that day: Seven thrusts in turns these Gallants had, before own drop of bloud was drawn, The Scottish Knight then speak valiantly, Stout Wharton still thou holdst thy own. With the next thrust that Wharton thrust, he ran him through the shoulder bone, The next was through the thick o'th thigh, thinking he had the Scotch Knight slain: Then Wharton said to the Scottish Knight, Are you a living man, tell me? If there be a surgeon in England can, he shall cure your wounds right speedily. Now nay, now nay, the Scottish Kt said, Sir George Wharton that may not be, The one of us shall the other kill, e'er off this ground that we do flee. Then in amaze Sir George lookt back, to see what company was nigh, They both had dangerous marks of death, yet neither would from th'other flie. But both through body wounded sore, with courage lusty strong and sound, They made a deadly desperate close, and both fell dead unto the ground; Our English Knight was the first that fell the Scotch Knight fell immediately, Who cryed both to Jesus Christ, Receive our souls, O Lord, we dye. God bless our noble King and Queen, and all the noble Progeny, That Britain still may live in one, in perfect love and unity: Thus to conclude, I make and end, wishing that quarrels still may cease, And that we still may live in love, in prosperous state, in joy and peace.
London: Printed for A.M. W.O. and T. Thackeray, in Duck-lane.